


the one time he really wanted a hug

by sticktoice



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Baby Bruce, Baby Selina, BatCat, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4954639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sticktoice/pseuds/sticktoice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>goodluckdetective: When Alfred is hurt, Baby Bruce tries to distance himself from everyone afraid of losing someone again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one time he really wanted a hug

_i. "My friend's been stabbed!"_

He forgot himself for a second there. Seeing Alfred on the floor. The red. 

He screamed like he had when his parents were shot, and crying out never helped.

Applying pressure to the wound would help. Stopping the bleed would help.

Talking to Alfred would help too - keep them both focused.

"Look at me, Alfred," His voice wavered pitifully so  he thrust his chin forward and tensed his jaw. "Alfred, focus. Keep your eyes on my face. Look away and you're fired."

_Master Bruce_  was back and in control, and the butler focused listless eyes on the boy’s face. Something like a smirk trembled on his lips. "Can't get rid of me that easily."

His eyes rolled back, and his hand fell to the floor from reaching for Bruce.

And the boy hated himself because apparently he didn't learn as quickly as everyone thought.

He screamed.

 

_ii. "I can't lose him. He's all I have."_

Admitting that brought no relief, and Bruce almost stiffened in Mr. Gordon's arms.

"He'll be fine; you won't lose him." The police officer’s words pushed through the silence like cheese through a grater.

He offered shredded bits of truth, mere possibilities.

Bruce needed something definite and something he could control.

He needed distance.

_iii. "I don't expect you to understand."_

And thank God Selina hadn't. Because then she'd want to-- "I'll help."

"No," He said it too fast, and she gave him a look.

A very telling  _kid, you will never be able to tell me what to do_ look.

He couldn't lose anyone else, and he didn't know how to stop her. She didn't care about him; he  _bugged_  her. So what was she doing here?

That's when he realized they weren't so terribly different after all.

She knew what to say to protect herself, to hurt someone to the point that he would leave her alone. Willingly.

So did he.

"Besides," His face remained as passive as when he had told his butler that there was no one left for a serial killer to take him from. "How could you help me?"

Emphasizing the  _you_  would be a bit much, and she was well-familiar with deceit. He needed her to believe this for it to work.

She gave him another look but answered anyway. "Pretty sure I'm better at tracking people down, kid."

"Pretty sure I have the better resources." His tone stayed matter-of-fact with just the right tinge of cockiness.

She scoffed. "Do you even know how to use those resources?  _Without_  getting killed?" 

"I can figure it out. Certainly faster than," The boy looked down, not really looking her over but making sure it looked like it, until his eyes rested briefly on her worn shoes. He coughed, "anyone  _else_  could."

Her nose crinkled in confusion first, then disgust. "What is wrong with you?"

He blinked owlishly at her. "Nothing."

She laughed, and it sounded hollower than pearls dropping on concrete. "Whatever, kid, you deserve what you get."

She was gone, and it was that easy.

 

_iv. "You have no idea what my nightmares are like."_

Footsteps tread quietly before stopping in front of him. Too light to be Mr. Gordon; too heavy to be Selina. He slowly glanced up, and confusion settled in.

"Hello, Bruce. Do you remember me?" Her voice was soft and gentle and  _painful_.

"Dr. Thompkins," He nodded formally.

"Now, Bruce," She smiled, her grin both enchanting and comforting. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Lee?"

He stretched his lips thin in a vain attempt to smile but said nothing.

The silence grew awkward. "I heard about Alfred."

He blinked at her, waiting.

"So I came to - to see if there was anything I could do?"

"You were supposed to look after me." His voice wavered again, and this was not what he needed to say to make her leave, but the words tumbled out. "I haven't seen you since before they died, and  _you're supposed to look after me_."

His voice lowered into a whisper, and it shocked them both how angry he was. Alfred took excellent care of him; why did he care.

"I'm sorry, Bruce."

She reminded him of his mother, that's why.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know how to. I didn't know what to say so I stayed away, and that was so stupid of me."

He needed her to leave.

"Please, Bruce," She knelt before him, her hands lifted to grip his shoulders. "Give me a second chance."

She would be easy too; she just wanted to alleviate her guilt. He managed a small smile. Almost genuine. "Of course, Lee."

She grinned then too, and Bruce hated himself for the second time that day as she wrapped her arms around him. Tears pricked his eyes, and if not crying hurt this much, he couldn’t imagine how painful letting them fall would feel.

He will really miss the hugs.


End file.
